


The Premonition Winter Gave Me

by Cecileen_aka_C2



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Suffering from hypergraphia but in translator version, Yes the title is from that BIBI song and I'm not even ashamed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 02:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12470968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cecileen_aka_C2/pseuds/Cecileen_aka_C2
Summary: "What’s your name?""Why would you even care?""Do you have anywhere to stay inside?""What if I don’t?""Come to my home."The boy raised his head.





	The Premonition Winter Gave Me

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [가정폭력 피해자 오마 리퀘스트](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/335226) by 루이. 



> Author's Note:  
> The prompt I finished in a second. For writers, Ouma is like a gift since he is a complete mystery. No one knows whether he's lying or saying truth anyway. You can analyse him in any view you want.
> 
> Translator's Note:  
> When will I stop providing prompts to others? Probably never.  
> I requested a comic based on same headcanon to Alsiushaku-san. Check that out too:  
> ouma--kokichis.tumblr.com/post/159587005811
> 
> As mentioned in tag the title comes from that BIBI song 'cause yes I can and yes I can  
> That's my fav Love Live music anyway. I sung it entire time working on this

"What’s your name?"

"Why would you even care?"

"Do you have anywhere to stay inside?"

"What if I don’t?"

"Come to my home."

The boy raised his head.

* * *

 

There was a purple boy.

The purple boy was not a very happy child. At least his household was not an environment where a child would feel happy. The boy did not want an affluent family. He did not want a wealthy parents. He did not want a competent, laissez faire, or accepting parents. He could not receive them even if he wanted to, and he was smart enough to realize that at young age.

Whatever he wanted, it was far off from reality. Father lost job after causing car accident. He became alcoholic and began to assault family. Mother couldn’t stand it and ran away. Then the assault toward remaining family members became worse. The reason he used plural was because he assaulted even himself.

The boy was mature. He knew too much for his age. How to lie better, How to relieve the pain, How to smile when it hurts and he wants to die, He learnt to survive.

Then the boy could realized why his father slapped him, pulled his hair, and swore-also why he cried, hugged him, apologized, and rubbed his rough beard that smelled like cigarette and alcohol later when his sanity returned. That made him to feel better. At least the father was hitting the boy not because he hated him, but he hated himself. But his body ached. It hurted too much. It was too much for him to bear.

The boy began to deceive himself. Nishihi. I’m fine. This can never hurt me. It doesn’t hurt at all. The boy created the inner persona of the supreme ruler to maintain sanity. I’m the evil supreme ruler of secret organization. I’m just being a spy right now, so this is nothing. Thus he tricked himself.

It was and was not effective. The boy was smart enough to detect himself’s lie. Yet he was also smart enough to know that he couldn't live without lie. That was a paradox.

The boy thoroughly concealed the bruises. He lied to others that his father was kind to him. The boy understood his father. That only infuriated him even more. He raged like a fire that he was not fucked up to earn sympathy from kid. The boy accepted the violence without any word.

The boy learnt how to give up. That was probably the most helpful knowledge than anything else. Do not wish if you can't make it. Do not expect anything from yourself. Hope is poisonous, and only resignation is a cure. The boy’s smile was bitter.

The boy pretended enthusiasm. He told jokes to other kids about his age, apologized after lying, and became the leader of the gang. The rascals formed secret organization named Dice and pulled the prank on everyone. They were amused. The boy was not.

The boy could not know his true heart anymore. Am I pleased? Or going crazy from pain? Does it hurt? Or Does it not? The expected fate of a liar. The boy was devoured by supreme ruler and he couldn’t distinguish the boy from the supreme ruler anymore. Maybe the melange of the boy and the supreme ruler was Kokichi Ouma himself. Maybe not being able to know the truth anymore was the best conclusion for him.

* * *

Ouma wore short-sleeved clothes in midwinter. He stuffed his two hands under the armpit, since he knew that will keep him alive. His father kicked him out, and he ended up at the street. He was not in pain, sad or felt threatened. It was not the first time this was happening to him. He didn’t expected piled snow, though.

This street didn’t have any place to babysit a young child. Bar, nightclub, liquor store. For convenience store, he was notorious as a prankster, and it was a matter of time for the entire street to know Ouma was kicked out in midnight. He didn’t. He knew how to keep himself warm with newspapers and box scraps. It was a bit cold, but all was smooth sailing.

It snowed. A white, clean snow. The christmas was coming soon. Or was it really? Ouma didn’t have any sense of date. He’s going to be beat up yesterday, today, and tomorrow anyway. It didn’t matter. No one celebrated christmas anyway. Is it christmas if his father dresses up as Santa Claus and hit him with socks stuffed with broken glass ?

Ouma quietly giggled. That was some funny joke. But he couldn’t use it in front of the children. Ouma felt hollow. What did I do wrong to end up doing this at here? Since where did we go wrong? He asked himself. There was no reply. A foregone conclusion, for he was alone.

Ouma knocked down the wall of box scraps and soaked newspaper to snow. The intense cold swoop on his body. Taking his hands off from the armpit that provided warmth, Ouma touched the freezing ice.

It was cold. It really was. He could relate to little match girl at that moment. The ice clung to his warm hand, and it felt like the hand skin would tear out if he tried to pull it hard. He did not want that kind of pain. Ouma carefully took his hand out.

This might be the best. That was what Ouma thought as he touched the snow. Hope is poisonous. This might be the cure for it. I know how to give up. I’m fine. He kept murmuring. He yelled to himself. He kept talking so he won’t wish to live at a second before freezing to death by any chance.

The consciousness began to slip away. Father. Mother. I’m going first. Ouma closed his eyes with one last laugh. The cold snow landed on the nape of the neck and helpless bare arms. Loneliness. That was his last memory.

* * *

It was warm. Ouma opened his eyes. Somebody has wrapped something warm around his neck. The five senses revived. Ouma smelled something. It was hot chocolate.

"Thank god, you’re awake!"

That voice was masculine and feminine at the same time. Is this a paradox too? Ouma stared at the person standing in front of him.

Good. Even the face was both masculine and feminine. It was a paradox. Guess he’ll get me since I’m a paradox too. Ouma snickered internally.

"Why are you wearing short-sleeved shirt in winter...? Take my scarf. Have some hot chocolate too. There’s also hand warmer. Here, take this. Get up."

Who are you? He wanted to ask but it was meaningless. He was a stranger anyway.

"What are you doing here at midnight?"

The owner of the voice was closer to boy than girl. He decided to forget that question as he witnessed Ouma’s look rotting with unbelievable rate.

"What’s your name?"

"Why would you even care?"

Ouma’s reply was blunt.

"Do you have anywhere to stay inside?"

"What if I don’t?"

Now knock it off. Sure. you’re nice. But I’m a complete stranger, No matter how deep our friendship might develop, we will never see each other again. Today is our end. Tomorrow I’ll be beaten up by my father again. Or maybe I’ll end up at the street in winter again. So don’t try to give me stupid hope and get lost. All these words lingered inside Ouma’s mouth.

"Come to my home."

Ouma raised his head.

“Huh?"

"Come to my home. There are enough rooms. My uncle will welcome you."

It won’t hurt to spend one night in warm place. Thinking that Ouma nodded. Looks like he is kinder than I thought. Then I’ll make use of you as much as possible.

"Fine. I’m coming."

"Huh? That easily? I mean... we just met. Can you trust me?"

"If I can’t trust someone who offers hand warmer and hot chocolate, also scarf, even shelter to a stranger, then who should I trust?"

Ouma was surprised that he actually said that. For the first time, he was sincere.

"Good. Thank you for believing me. Follow me. It takes only 5 minutes."

Ouma felt the warmth spreading from the hand warmer to entire body. He had a quick question.

"What is your name?"

"Me?"

The boy turned back. Black hair, Black hat. Black clothes and black scarf wrapped around Ouma’s neck. He who was as black as night street opened his mouth.

"I’m Shuuichi Saihara. And you?"

"Kokichi Ouma, I’m the leader of evil secret society."

"What? Really?"

Ouma waved his hands at Saihara’s surprised expression.

"Nevermind. Just kidding. Forget what I said."

Better stop lying too much. Ouma made a mental note.

It is a later story that Ouma gets genuinely surprised after staying a night at Saihara’s uncle’s house to learn that ‘welcome’ means continuous providing of the shelter.

And it is also a later story that Ouma finds hope and realizes meeting Saihara was the beginning of his salvation.

**Author's Note:**

> Next several works might be translation of the same guy's work. Recently he set a prompt box at Twitter, and I've been challenging him with extremely deep prompts
> 
> I just love his writing style-something completely different from Ao3 works-and I believe I can improve mine(both Korean and English)by lots of reading and translating, even if it's fanfics, okay?


End file.
